


About Time

by WordsmithMusings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Ancestral/Family Magic, Black Hermione Granger, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Slytherins, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Magic Can't Solve Everything, Mentions of Cancer, Post-Canon Fix-It, Some Characters Live Because I Do What I Want, Time Magic, inspired by Movie, obviously, of sorts, romcom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsmithMusings/pseuds/WordsmithMusings
Summary: When Draco's Father reveals to him that the men in their family have the ability to travel back in time, he uses his newfound gift to do many things - save a life, be a better friend, reconnect with a witch, and fall in love.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 19
Kudos: 80
Collections: Dramione RomCom Fest





	About Time

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneRomComFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneRomComFest) collection. 



> **My Prompt:**   
>  [About Time (2013)](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2194499/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0)
> 
> Rated for smut in future chapters, language and if you've seen the movie, mentions of potential triggers. It is a HEA and a RomCom, but those elements from the movie sadly remain. 
> 
> Special thanks to Quin Talon and Nik Cole for running this fest, my marvelous alphas FaeOrabel and EscapingArtist and the amazing KoraKwidditch for her beta skills. And the cast and crew that made this delightful movie. It's been a favorite for years, and I hope I do it justice. 
> 
> It's not my garden, I just tend the flowers.

#  **Chapter 1**

  
_Dear Scorpius,_

_ Your mother suggested that instead of traditional gifts, we each write you a letter for your birthday. I'll admit it seemed silly when she first told me, but as I thought about our family legacy, the idea gained merit. _

_ So, while you are in your bassinet, cooing, and offering the sweetest smiles I've ever seen, I'm taking the opportunity today as your mother suggested. But let's keep that bit between us, shall we? _

_ I’m unsure where to begin. You will learn, probably sooner rather than later, that our family name has quite a complex bit of history. So, perhaps I’ll start not at the beginning of my life, but with when my ordinary life truly changed into something extraordinary.  _

_ Let’s begin with 8th year—which, for the record, was a total nightmare. I attended only because it was court-mandated while both my parents served house arrest for their parts in the war (and I’m sure your mother will be thrilled that I’m starting this first letter mentioning the war, but I figure by the time we give these to you at 18 or 21 or whenever it is that she wants to give it to you, that you will have LONG, LONG ago heard about the war, and our family’s part in it).  _

_ My father, at some point, had become a spy like my Godfather Severus—which was fortunate for Severus when that noseless monster Riddle left him for dead. Somewhere between watching people tortured in our home. and entertaining the dark bastard, my father managed to get enough help to the Order to save a few hundred lives and avoid a life sentence in Azkaban.  _

_ The truth of my father’s allegiance, and the consequences of his testimony, meant 8th year was far from ideal for me. I still had the friendship of my two best friends, your Uncles Theo and Blaise, but neither desired to return to school—leaving me mostly alone with my thoughts and a very large target on my back. Honestly, it’s something I hope you never, ever experience. _

_ As soon as our year of torture was up, I graduated Hogwarts, as happy to say goodbye to it as I’m sure it was to see the last of me for quite some time. My parents meanwhile emptied our ancestral home in Wiltshire, the once-beloved Malfoy Manor, of their most precious possessions and burnt it to the ground. They relocated permanently to our country house in the Cornwall, the very place that we now call home with you. And funnily enough, for the very same reasons: it’s far from people and the society that had no idea whether to spurn or praise us. (A fact, that I’m hoping will have changed in the next twenty years before you read this, but as Magicals are slow to change, I’ll say I’m sorry and I love you now—just in case it hasn’t changed as much as your mother seems to think it will have by then). _

_ As your Great Uncle Severus called it, the Cottage by the Sea was untainted by either war and nestled on the edge of a popular muggle village—thus guaranteeing no unwelcome visitors. It was a place where my father, your Grandfather, could retreat to his study filled with books and records, and my mother, your Grandmere, could retreat to her many gardens to tend her flowers or paint without disturbance. A sanctuary that opened its arms to Great Uncle Severus when he too had enough of society that loved and hated him by turns and allowed him to study herbology alongside my mother and focus on his love of potions without teaching Dunderheads.  _

_ I’ll let your mother tell you where she went to after 8th year, but I retreated to the International Academy of Magic in the States where I could disappear in my studies and pretend that my family’s legacy wasn’t a disastrous nightmare of confusion (a phrase your mother taught me years later that I’m now quite fond of). It was a place where I could pretend that, though I was still too tall, too lean, and too pale, I wasn’t too broken to make something of myself... _

_ Every summer and holiday break, I returned home to our Cottage, just as I had since the first time I left home at 11. There was a bittersweet familiarity in the rhythm of it. The countdown to Hols and the return to the comfort of my mother’s flowers, Severus grumbling over experiments and the excess time my father always seemed to have in spades those days—time he used to debate books and beat me in blackball pool. There were days spent by the sea, having afternoon tea, skipping stones, and eating sammies. There were blackball pool tournaments and hours of tennis with the lads in between nights of drinking and enjoying a new, safer world where we could all be. _

_ I’ll admit I became accustomed to living a very dull, very ordinary life.  _

_ That is, until the day after my 23rd birthday when my Uncle woke me up and handed me a hangover potion, with a grunted, “Your father wants to see you, Lad.”  _

_ I mumbled my thanks as I downed the potion and sat up, thankful as ever to have a resident potion master with an affinity for flavorings to disguise the disgusting combination of ingredients in hangover potions. (Don’t worry, I have you covered when the time comes.) _

_ I remember Severus remarking on my sexy pajamas as I rose to ready myself to meet my father, and I tried not to laugh as I stumbled into the bathroom to change. I always wore my special green pajamas with the golden snitches on my birthday back then. Your mother stole the top long ago. (I know, too much information, Dad.) _

_ A half-hour later, I knocked on the door of my father’s study, feeling decidedly less hungover from my annual birthday party the night before, and unbeknownst to me, that was the moment when my life would change forever. _

****   
  
“Ah, Draco. Do come in.” 

Draco raised a brow at his father, noticing that he stood uncomfortably by his desk. “That was quite formal. Everything alright?” 

“Well, yes,” Lucius replied. “This is an odd moment for me because I had the same moment with my father when I’d just turned 23, and after it, my life was never the same. So I approach it pretty, um, nervously.” 

Draco’s brain stuttered to see Lucius so undone, “Okay,” he replied, doing his best to seem reassuring. “That’s quite mysterious. Whenever you’re ready.”

Lucius inclined his head and turned his gaze to the many portraits upon the wall. There seemed to be a solemnity to the moment, and Draco watched fascinated as his father stood for several moments, gathering his thoughts. 

“Draco, my darling son, my only son,” he paused, smiling awkwardly at him. “The truth is…”

His voice dropped for a moment as his gaze drifted once again to a portrait before he cleared his throat and continued, “The simple fact is the men in this family have always had the ability to… This is going to sound strange, be prepared for strangeness.” Draco nodded, unsure how else to respond to his rambling.“The men in this family have a secret - a gift really, a magical gift that comes to fruition on our 23rd birthday. The secret is that the men in the family can travel in time. Well, more accurately, travel  _ back _ in time. We can’t travel into the future.”

Draco’s face registered his shock, “What? Like a time-turner?”

“What? No. Well, I mean sort of, I suppose. It’s family magic, said to be gifted by Kronos himself,” Lucius replied, a pompous air returning to his countenance. 

“How much did you have to drink last night, exactly?” Draco asked in disbelief, “Did you and Uncle Sev get into the elves special mushrooms again?” 

“Yes… No… Shut up and listen!” his father exclaimed

Draco rolled his eyes and leaned back into the settee. “Fine, you were saying? We can travel in time. Like our very own time turner.”

“Yes, exactly,” replied Lucius, finally sitting on the settee with him, “only without the time turner and the meddling interference from the Ministry.” 

“Right, of course. And we do this  _ how _ exactly? Click our heels and spin ourselves in a circle?” mocked Draco.

His father stifled a sigh, and Draco noted the lines of agitation creeping across his father’s face, “No. You go into a dark space—cupboards work well—and you clench your fist and think of where you want to go.” 

“Where I want to go?” 

“Well, it has to be someplace that you’ve already been,” clarified Lucius, “a moment in your own life, and you can only go backward or to the present. You can’t travel to the future. That would just be daft.”

“This is without a doubt the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Draco huffed. “What is this? Happy Birthday, Draco. Here’s a good laugh? And everyone is in on it?” he asked, pointing to the portraits.

“It’s not a joke,” replied one of his great Uncles over Draco’s shoulder. “Try it.”

“Fine,” Draco replied, glaring at the portrait, “I will.” Draco returned his attention to his father, “and when it turns out to be wrong—“ 

“It won’t—”

“And when it turns out to be  _ wrong _ , you’ll give me 100 galleons,” he stated, standing and offering his hand to his father.

Lucius had the gall to smile at him as he stood, “Deal,” he replied, shaking his hand quickly. 

Draco looked from their joined hands to his father’s eyes, “You’re joking?”

“I’m not,” he replied, dropping his hand. “You’ll see.”

He huffed again, “Fine!” Draco made for the door. “Fine,” he repeated opening it with a great deal of force

“Try and do something exciting while you’re at it,” his father called after his retreating back with a laugh.

“Draco, do something fun while you’re at it. Yes. Yes. Brilliant! Sounds amazing,” huffed Draco as he opened the cupboard outside his father’s study. “Right. Sure. Let’s have a laugh,” he grumbled as he pushed the clothes out of the way and stepped inside it. 

Rolling his eyes as he closed the doors, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for the lunacy, and nothing to happen. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and thought of his birthday party the night before Blaise knocked the table of drinks over. About the goo-goo eyes, Daphne had been giving him and the way he’d decidedly  _ not _ kissed her at midnight as fireworks went off—not kissed her the way he had wanted to in that moment. Draco’s stomach swooped and lurched in a way that reminded him of apparition, and when he opened his eyes, he was shocked to find himself in the same clothes he had worn for his birthday party the night before. 

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” Draco murmured as he stumbled out of the cupboard. He paused, hearing familiar music. Turning the corner, Draco bumped into Blaise— _ Blaise! Holy fuck!  _ Draco thought to himself.  _ Did it work?  _ His surprise must’ve shown on his face as Blaise asked if he was alright. 

“Of course,” Draco nodded, noting the tiny details he’d missed last night. Like Blaise’s askew tie and glassy eyes. 

“Easy there,” Draco chastised, quickly maneuvering Blaise around the table filled with drinks, narrowly avoiding the large mess that he had created last night.

Last night. Tonight. 

Draco’s head swirled with the possibilities. But then it was almost midnight, and there was Daphne still making those eyes at him, and as the countdown ended, Draco did one of the things he’d wished to since he was 13 years old. He grabbed Daphne Greengrass and kissed her soundly. 

It was a good kiss, as kisses went, and Draco was only mildly disappointed not to feel that spark he’d been hoping for. Still, he kissed her again to be sure, and when he pulled away, Daphne smiled and batted her eyes. Clearly, she had felt something he had not. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his Father smirking. 

“Will you excuse me for a moment, Daph?” 

“Of course, Draco,” she purred, and he remembered part of why he’d never pursued a relationship with the girl as she batted her eyes again and simpered. 

Draco made his way back to the same cupboard, closed his eyes, and clenched his fist. A moment later, he burst through his father’s study door, dressed in his casual clothes from the next day once again. 

“Tell me everything.”

Lucius smiled and laughed. “So, I don’t owe you a 100 galleons then?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Your comments and kudos mean the world to me.


End file.
